Chapter 25 - Foundational

                                        

                                              
Carbonation!!


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Location: Stohess District, Wall Sina
Year: 845
Time: Early Morning





The pain in my leg had dulled into something manageable.
Superficial. If this were my world—the one I came from—I'd be walking at full capacity within the hour. 
With proper facilities, I could've been fencing by noon.
But here?
Their medicine sits somewhere between field surgery and back-alley barbershop. And that's being generous.
Grisha did what he could. His fingers were steady, but the techniques... they felt about eighty years out of date. Late 1920s, maybe early '30s. Primitive antiseptics. Manual stitching. Things like that.
Still, he knew how to clean a wound and keep a leg functional. 
For that, I'll give him credit.
I stared out the hospital window, still cracked slightly open from the night before. 
"..."
Grisha hadn't said goodbye. 
He just left.
He checked the bandage one last time. Said something half-mumbled about infection. Then pulled on his coat and left, mumbling one more thing about losing time.
I didn't ask him to stay. He didn't ask me to come.
The moment he left, I knew I couldn't waste time here.
Sure, I could sit around like a proper patient, wait for a nurse to bring stale bread and tell me to "stay off the leg." 
But I already knew where he was going. 
Trost District.
If the refugees from Wall Maria were going anywhere, it would be there. And if Eren, Mikasa, and Armin survived, that's where they'd end up.
And I had to know. Because Grisha... he didn't just disappear into the smoke. He passed on a burden.
He gave that boy, his son, something that's going to tear the world in half. Something he called a "Titan power."
And then he fed himself to his son, or was about to.
I sat up, slowly. My leg protested, but only slightly. 
Before the nurses could do their rounds, I moved to the window. 
The latch was rusted, but a little force popped it free.
The sill was damp. I put a hand on it, swung one leg out, then the other.
A second later, I was crouching on the narrow ledge, looking down at the alley below. 
Two stories. 
"..."
Manageable.
I tested my footing. Then eased myself down, gripping the edge and dropping the last few feet. My landing was muted. 
The leg stung, but didn't buckle.
Good.
The hospital faded behind me as I moved through the side streets. I followed the drainage slope toward the river dock. The early vendors weren't out yet, either.
I also remembered the riverboat schedule.
If I were quick, I could make the next boat that could take me on a route to Trost.